At last the joints are joined, they rear a pyramid in air,
A tub upon the table, and upon the tub a chair,
And on chair and supporters are the stovepipe and the Brown,
Like the lion and the unicorn, a-fighting for the crown;
While Mistress Brown, she cheerily says to him, “I expec’
’Twould be just like your clumsiness to fall and break your neck.”
Scarce were the piteous accents said before she was aware
Of what might be called “a miscellaneous music in the air.”
And in wild crash and confusion upon the floor rained down
Chairs, tables, tubs, and stovepipes, anathemas, and—Brown.